🗳️ Why I Ran for Office—and What I’ve Learned Along the Way

by Bus Obayomi

I’ve had the opportunity to run for public office twice—well, maybe three times if you count the first time I wasn’t able to gather enough signatures and chose to bow out quietly. Each attempt brought its own lessons, challenges, and moments of growth. While winning is the typical goal in any race, I’ve come to realize that the deeper value lies in what the journey reveals—about your community, your convictions, and most importantly, yourself.

My first small venture into politics was back in college, running for student government. I didn’t win outright, but a seat opened up when someone stepped down, giving me the unexpected opportunity to serve. That pattern feels symbolic now—doors opening not always by force, but by persistence and divine timing.

My first real foray into public service came with my candidacy for the Gilbert Town Council. I didn’t run because I needed a title—I ran because I felt called. Gilbert wasn’t just a place to live; it was a place where I believed I was meant to leave a mark. I knew I wasn’t the “typical” candidate: younger, Black, and a fresh face in a landscape that often leans toward the familiar. But I wasn’t looking to fit in—I was stepping out in obedience to a deeper purpose.

Along the way, I’ve learned a few things I’d like to share—lessons not just about politics, but about life, leadership, and calling.

1.

Trailblazing is Lonely—but Purpose Keeps You Steady

Running for office can be a lonely journey. It’s not just about signs and speeches; it’s about carrying a burden few understand. You often feel ahead of your time—and that can be isolating. But if you’re called to blaze a trail, don’t expect company in the beginning. Just stay faithful to the path.

2.

Lower Your Expectations—but Stay Grateful

No one owes you support. That truth stings when you’ve served faithfully and received silence or indifference in return. I had to grieve those moments quietly. But I’ve also learned that gratitude is a weapon against bitterness. Celebrate every unexpected supporter and keep your heart free from entitlement.

3.

Don’t Let Disappointment Change Your Character

There were times I questioned continuing to serve in places that seemed blind to my value. But I’ve come to understand—my service is unto God, not man. It still hurts, but I refuse to become jaded. I don’t serve for applause. And I no longer over-explain my calling to those unwilling to see it.

4.

Embrace the Journey, Not Just the Destination

Campaigning gave me the incredible privilege of meeting people I’d never otherwise encounter. It opened doors to conversations that enriched my soul. Win or lose, the journey gave me more than a seat ever could—perspective, connection, and deeper love for my community.

5.

Keep Building Beyond the Ballot

Politics wasn’t the endgame; it was a catalyst. Relationships built during the campaign have spilled into other parts of my life—professionally, spiritually, and personally. It taught me that every step forward creates a ripple, even when you can’t see the full wave.

6.

Your Life May Not Fit a Box—and That’s Okay

If you know me, you know I don’t fit neatly into categories. Politics. Faith. Tech. Community. Family. I touch all of them, and that can make it hard for people to define me. But I’m no longer waiting for validation. My journey is layered, prophetic, and sometimes misunderstood. That’s okay. I’ve stopped trying to fit and started trusting the assignment.

I ran for office because I believed—and still believe—that I was born to help shape places, not just reside in them. That belief hasn’t changed. What has changed is my perspective. I’ve learned that not all victories are visible. Some come in quiet breakthroughs, inner healing, and long-haul faithfulness.

So if you’re like me—someone who’s felt unseen, misunderstood, or simply “ahead of your time”—know this: You’re not lost. You’re just being built for something greater.

Stay faithful. Stay grounded. And keep moving forward.

Because the dots will connect—and when they do, they won’t just make sense…

They’ll make history.